A Twist in Time
by harleygirl93
Summary: Rhayella, a famous actor, singer, and musician is secretly the biggest Phan ever. She's devoted her entire life to him, and receives nothing for it. Until one day on her way home from a bar, she is transported into the Phantoms world.
1. Une

"That's a wrap!" I hear our director call out as we finished our last scene for the movie we were working on, and I walked off set and grabbed a sandwich that was laid out for us on one of the many trays.  
I munch on my sandwich as I make my way to my trailer. I grabbed my plugged in phone that was at 100% now, and shoved it in my purse along with my fully charged battery pack. I grabbed my makeup box that was filled with all sorts of makeup, and my hair bag that was filled with gel, Bobby pins, jeweled Bobby pins, and hair ties. I walked over to the cabinets and pull my pocket knife and earphones out and shove the last things into my now ginormous purse. I grab the car keys and close the trailer for good.  
*One last time.* She sung in her head, and then with one last final bittersweet glance, she turned her back and walked off, a new opportunity to hopefully present Itself soon. Maybe a better one, maybe not, but she knew with everything in her that whatever it was it was going to be good. Not good, great.  
She set her keys in the dish on her kitchen counter. She lived in a quaint little apartment, a third if the price she should be paying for an apartment. She could afford something bigger, money wasn't the issue. The issue was that she was single, and had no animals. She always had a clean house, not because it was good to keep a clean house, but because she didn't have any thing, just clothes and books, and notebooks and pens, and bathroom items. Not much in the way things, just the bare minimum to keep her busy. She plopped down onto her soft brown sofa and sighed. This was the least busy she had been in years, usually when she got done with one thing another movie or something was lined up, but she had nothing this time.  
This time she didn't mind, she had none than enough money, and she wanted a break. She would take a month off. Her phone went off and she dug in her purse and pulled it out. A text from her friends.

Drinks?  
Totally.  
What about you Rhay?

She stared at the texts, her friends Emma and Ali were always going to bars and drinking their nights away. She had a career, she did, but right now she had greeting, and what harm could one girls night out do? She typed her response on the glass screen.

Can I choose where to go?  
Is that the only way you'll go?  
Yes.

A pen floated in the lower left of her screen, telling her that someone was writing.

Let me guess...  
Piano Forte.  
You know it. 8:00 good?"  
Make it nine.  
Kk.

She now has three hours to get ready. More than enough time by far, but the matter of choosing what to wear was the issue.  
She slowly got up, and went to her room to choose an outfit. She stumbled across a dress she hadn't worn in years, it was when she was Christine for Phantom of the Opera, the Don Juan dress. The bar had dueling pianos, and it would fit, she could be Christine one more night.  
Heaven knows that if she was actually Christine she would have chosen the phantom, over and over, she would have chosen him. She loved him, like any fangirl loved a fictional character. With their whole entire heart; she was no different.

She spent the next two and a half hours doing makeup and curling her hair, she wanted to look like Christine as much as possible, after all, this was her favourite musical.

It was exactly nine, and she was sitting at a round table in a corner where you could clearly see and hear the two pianos. It was the best seat in the house, but not many knew it was.  
She saw them walk in and waves them over and they sit down. Across from her.  
"You realize that what you're wearing right now is less then appropriate for this bar?" She directs at the two of them.  
"Totally, but I mean here you are dressed up as Christine. I mean heaven for bid we dress up as hookers."  
"It should, be forbidden I mean." They both roll their eyes and then order drinks.  
It was about two o'clock, and Rhayella slipped her curled brown hair up into a bun, and started walking down the street to her car. It was t a far walk, but it sure felt like it after six drinks. *maybe I shouldn't drive.* She didn't, instead she walked down the street, with her huge purse from earlier in her hand. She knew a hotel down the corner and would crash their tonight and then go back home tomorrow.  
She crashed on the hotel bed, and passed out  
When she awoke she was on the stage floor of an opera house, and an old one at that judging by the architecture.  
"Who are you?" A woman with brown hair pulled back into a braid and bun asked.


	2. Deux

"Who are you?" A woman with brown hair pulled back into a braid and bun asked. O realized I was laying on the floor, in the middle of the stage, covered in hotel blankets, and my purse next to me. I stood up quickly and forced myself go do the best that I could to look presentable. I straightened the dress I was in last night, ran my finger through my loose curls that were sure to go any minute now.  
"Madame, I'm terribly sorry for intruding, bit I do not remover how I even got here. I am at a complete and utter loss as to where I am, or what day it is."  
"It's October twenty second, it's a Monday. Now I will ask once more before-" A piece of paper floated down and landed at her feet, where she than picked it up. It was sealed with black and red wax, and she opened the contents and pulled out a letter and read it.  
"You must forgive me, one who falls asleep on the stage may look it seem as if we housed the poor." She bowed slightly. "Forgive my rudeness, mademoiselle."  
"May I inquire your name?" She holds a hand out and introduces herself.  
"Madame Giry, I run the ballet." My eyes widen and in that moment I'm frozen, before finally collecting myself and give her a firm shake back.  
"I'm Rhayella Win-"  
"Yes, I was made quite clear of who you are, and how I am supposed to treat you." She helps me collect my things and we walk off the stage and down a few hallways to a spare room. "This is all that I have, please understand."  
"Madame Giry, this is more than enough." I say thanking her and taking the sheets and my purse from her.  
"Lunch is at noon, until then get your rest, you look like you need it." She was over to the door but is stopped briefly by me calling out to her.  
"Madame Giry?" I ask and take a step towards her.  
"Yes?" Her cold brown eyes bore down into my green eyes.  
"That letter, was it from Erik?" Her eyes narrow and I can see that she's trying to read me, trying to figure out just exactly who I was.  
"No." It was sharp, like a winter WI d that threatened to bite your nose off.  
"Then may I see what the contents says?" I hold out my hand palm up, I didn't need her to get defensive or think that I was threatening her.  
"Goodnight." She closed the door behind with a slight thud, and I was left in the room.  
If that was Madame Giry, and a letter dropped from the ceiling, there had to be a Christine, a Meg, and maybe, if I was really lucky, an Erik. Maybe the Phantom of the Opera was real after all, especially the way Madame Giry reacted when I said his name. If I was lucky maybe everything in the book and movies and plays were real.  
What room was I in? It was bare, plain tan walls with wooden floors. In the left there was a bed up against the wall, and a dresser at the foot of the bed. On the right in the corner was one if the changing blocker things and on the wall next to it was a makeup desk and oval mirror attached to it. Then I saw it. The mirror in the back of the room. Was this the one in the movie; the one where the phantom emerges from and shows himself to Christine. I reach my finger to the side of the mirror.  
There was a breeze coming from the mirror, and I knew that this wasn't a mirror, it was passage down to his "lair", and I was dead and determined to find him. I had some questions for him, many that would probably confuse him, but I needed to know.  
I was from the future, I was an actor in the twenty-first century, and my favorite music, musical, and book, was Phantom of the Opera. Of course, I wanted to meet him, he inspired me to be what I am, I took voice lessons because of the play I saw of him. My whole entire career and love of music was because of him.  
I pulled relatively hard before it started to budge and I could only get is so far open, just enough room that I could squeeze through.  
Mental note: Tell Erik he's strong.  
His home was just down the hall and I could reach it. I walked through, my dress of Christine as Anita trailing behind me maybe an inch or so. The anxiety of meeting him filled my blood. I started my decent into his home beneath the opera house.

There I stood, looking out to his house across the lake. He sat at the organ writing something and then went back to laying his fingers over the keys of the piano and depressing them. It was beautiful and I swear I had heard this song before. That song sounded so melancholy and so familiar like it was just a memory. It's like seeing a face that you haven't seen in years, but you know you've seen them before.


	3. Trois

Have you ever seen someone, or been around someone, and you know that if it it weren't for that person who made you feel at home you wouldn't be where you are now? That was him. Sitting there on that bench. The music stopped and he wrote some notes down.  
"So," I say and he turns around panic in his eyes and he reaches for the sword that was next to the piano and holds it out to me. I lean up against the wall and cross my arms.  
"How did you get in here?" He walks down into the water where he now has the tip of the blade pointing at my chest.  
"I just opened the mirror, wasn't hard, I know your secret entryway. Well the mirror was hard to open, but." I made an oh well face. "I managed." He still held the sword to my chest, and I took the back of my hand and gently shoved the tip away from me. "I'll tell you if you tell me how you know my name, Erik." I grin evilly. I think my acting was rubbing off on me, as my favourite movie j ever stared in, I was the villain. Dear god, I loved having the ups on people.  
"Madame, forgive me, but I think it best to answer my question first. Seeing as how you also know my name. And how I also have a sword." He grips the hilt of his sword tighter and the sword moves a little bit.  
"Isn't your lake poisonous?" I ask remembering at some point in time that I had heard it can make you deathly sick. He didn't answer me, just kept waiting for an answer. I rolled my eyes. "I told you already, came through the mirror."  
"How did you know about the entrance?" He puts the tip of the sword into the dirt and shifts his weight so he's leaning on it. "How did you know about it?"  
"You wouldn't believe even if I told you."  
"Am I to assume you won't tell me then?"  
"No." I reply  
"Why not?" His eyes are on mine and it almost feels like he's trying to see into my soul.  
"Spoilers." Have you ever Doctor Who, you know who River is and her catch phrase? That's what I did I used her catch phrase and said it the same way she did on the show. Erik cocks his head slightly.  
"You Mademoiselle, are an enigma."  
"Thank you." He looked confused, but he quickly wiped the emotion of his face.  
"That wasn't a compliment."  
"Felt like it to me." I take a step towards him. "Can I ask you something now?" He puts the sword in his hilt and holds a hand out to me, and to be honest I was utterly confused. The man who just held a sword to my chest was now offering his hand.  
"I may be a ghost, but I am a gentleman. Your hand, please." He moves his fingers in a beckoning gesture. At least he's not singing. I take a few steps towards him and gently grasp at his hand. The touch of him sends little tiny shocks of electricity through my body and it makes me feel all warm inside. Here I was living every phans dream, meeting the enchanting faced Phantom who looked more similar to Gerard Butler than any of the other phantoms, and being escorted to his home under the opera house. Yeah, every phan's dream.  
He helps me step into the water, and it's here where I realize how short I am compared to him, he had to be a foot taller than me, okay maybe more like six or seven inches, seeing as I was like five foot six, and he was two heads above me.  
The water wasn't green like in the movie, it was crystal clear and sparkling, like the white beaches of Greece. It was cold, freezing cold, and I had to give him kudos for standing in the water for so long. He helped me onto the beach and then looked down at me.  
May I?" I look up into his warm gold eyes, and all of a sudden I can see his pain, and everything he suffered. I nod slowly. He wraps an arm around my waist and grabs my right arm and pulls it across his shoulders and he helps me up the stairs. To demise, I now understood why he helped me up the stairs, my legs were numb and heavy to move, which was something I hadn't expected.  
"Thank you." I reply as he sets me next to the fireplace, where a brilliant fire was burning. He then positions himself on the opposite side so as to be as far away from me as possible.  
"How did you know about the mirrors?" His golden eyes studying me, watching my movements. He wasn't sure if me, I knew that look.  
"I got hold of the original plans for the Opera house." He squints his eyes at me.  
"That would mean you know all of the other entrances, yes?"  
"Most of them, yeah."  
"And your sure you know them from the original floor plans?" I nod, and he gets up and brings out huge sheets of paper and a book. "You should know better than to lie to strangers." What he lays out in front of me are the original floor plans for the Opera house and my phantom of the Opera book.  
"That's…" I point to the book and take a nervous swallow. "That's my book."  
"Yes, I know. I read it." Panic flashed through me, realizing that anything he read could now be set in stone. His voice was like a hiss when he spoke indicating that he also knew more than he was saying.  
"Can I have it back?" I hold my hand out, waiting for him to place it in the palm of my hand, but he never does.  
"No." He sets the book up on top of the fire. "I'm keeping it."  
"What why?" I threw my hands up and my voice became louder.  
"It was... intriguing. A very different take on me, to say the least." He pause and looked down at me. "My favourite parts though, were the notes in margins of the text." This time there was no slyness to his voice he was being serious, absolutely dead serious. I didn't know what to think if he read every single one of my notes. Some were about in depth analysis of the characters, and others were about Erik. There was one I remember quite vividly that I had written. *I devote every minute of my life to you, either I be asleep or awake, everything g I do is for you, in the chance of one day meeting you.* It was in my latter years when I had written, and I had used my most elegant handwriting at the time. Everything was for him. Every production, for him. Every time o got cast I sent a silent prayer up to the heavens hoping one day he would get it. Here we are, and he's gotten everything my heart holds dear, right in his hands.  
"And what did you think of it, the notes?"  
"My honest opinion."  
"I wouldn't ask for you to lie."  
"You've believed in fairy tales for quite too long, and it's an easy read."  
"Oi." Living in London for a year rubbed off on me. "I'll have you know that where I come from its actually one of the harder reads. And fairy tales? That is not a fairy tale, the boy doesn't get the girl." His gold eyes pierce right through me, leaving me raw and helpless. Making me feel like a kid instead of the woman I was.  
"No, you're right, the Vicomte gets her. The good character, the one that earns everyone's affection." He sneers.  
"You don't understand, in fact you are mistaken. Very few people like Raoul and Christine together, and very few like you and Christine together. But one thing for sure, is that you are loved and empathized for by those who read about you." I sigh and take a big breath, not realizing I was holding my breath. "Don't you get it, people are in awe with you, they love you." His glare is like knives and I look to my hands and fiddle with them.  
"How can anyone ever love this face? Ever love me?" He turns away from me, leaving me to state at the back of his black pants and white shirt. Everyone talks about how toned the phantom was in fanfics, and everything they said, was true. I could see his muscles flexing on his arms as he moved them, his back seemed to be strong and sturdy. I couldn't believe I didn't notice this before.  
I stand up and allow the cool air if the underground touch my wet dress, sensing shivers through my leg. I slowly walk up to him, and I can feel his body radiating heat as I go to lay a hand on his shoulder. He flinches at my touch, and I have to remind myself that he's not used to people touching him, in fact he's probably known no more than a short hug or simple handshake.  
"They love you because you're flawed, because the people who read the books or watch the movies or see the musical," I hear him mumble movie in confusion. "They are able to relate to how you feel, how alone you are. The most flawed characters are always loved the most." He throws my hand off his shoulder and turns to face me.  
"And my face?" He towers over me showing his half concealed face, I stare between his two eyes. "What do they think of that?"  
"They," I correct myself. "We, think nothing of it. Your deformity is on the surface, while others are in their soul." My hand flies up to his clay mask and I caress it. It was cool under my fingers, and was a contrast to his warm body. In one swift motion he grabs my wrist and pulls it away from his face.  
"Do not touch my mask ever again." He growls at me, his hot breath hitting my face. I pull my hand out of his tight grasp and go to sit back down next to the warm fire.  
"How did you know my name?" I ask as I yawn and stretch, realizing g just how tired I was. He reaches into his jacket that was hanging up and pulled out my driver license from inside one of his pockets. He holds it up with his index and middle finger and then hands it to me, where I take it from him and put it in down my chest.  
My eyes are suddenly very hard to keep open and I find myself leaning against the frame of the fireplace for support. He looks at me and his once harsh and piercing gaze becomes softened and concerned. He bends down and picks me up, and I lazily wrap my arms around his neck as he carries me over to the swan bed where he lays me down. He pulls my arms off from around his neck and pulls the covers up over me and I sink into the warmth of the soft silk sheets.  
I let the darkness absorb my thoughts and my body, and drift off to sleep, dreaming about my world, and missing my tiny apartment.


	4. Quatre

Erik had suggested he take me back to my room, that I wouldn't find my way back through the maze of tunnels that he had had laid when the Opera house was created. I told him I would be find and had insisted on him staying here working on his Opera, and the look I had gotten from him was a little short of nothing. Yet, once again his eyes betrayed him and proved that he was in fact in shock.  
I stepped through the mirror and closed it gently behind me, careful not trip or make noise as Erik had informed it was fairly early in the morning.  
"So," Madame Giry's voice was cold like ice and short. "It seems you know more than you let on."  
"Oh, madame Giry." Impressed my back up against the mirror feeling like I was nothing but a fly compared to her.  
"If you expect to live here, then I must request all information, who you are, where you've lived, I need to know you will not harm anyone in this opera house, or even Erik."  
"Madame Giry, I would never hurt Erik." Hurting him was the furthest from my mind, I would never get close enough to him to hurt him. Accidentally, or on purpose.  
"Then tell me everything." I took a few steps towards her cautiously, not wanting her to feel threatened.  
"You wouldn't believe me." She sat down on the bed.  
"Try me." I went and sat next to her.  
"If you know my name already I can skip that part." She nods her head. "I was born in nineteen ninety-two, to two very loving parents. At the age of ten they separated and went their own ways, I was left to be on my own, I was put in foster care, never really staying in one place, constantly bouncing from family to family.  
"I didn't have very many friends, I barley knew my family, and I didn't have much except for a phone and computer provided by one of the families I had stayed with  
"When I was eleven, I stumbled across a book, it was called Le Fantôme de l'Opera. I was intrigued by it, I had read it twice in one week. From there I spent hours researching about it, listening to the the music, and watching the movies over and over again.  
"It was then that I realized I was in love with the male protagonist, that I would never be completely satisfied." I sighed, and wronged my hands together, feeling the more than real gut reaching feeling that he could never love me.  
"So, I dedicated my whole entire life to him. I was top of my class in every school I went to, I studied music, and acting, and drama, all of the arts, I mastered the piano and cello, many brass instruments, and I took voice lessons and worked on perfecting my voice. Every act, show, Opera, music, musical, play, anything I preformed in, it was all for him." I look up to her now, my blue eyes on her dark brown ones.  
"Can you imagine, an entire life devoted to someone who is false, who would never be real, and who could never love you back? Can you imagine? You don't know the pain I went through, how hard it was to be on top." A tear slips from my eye, and I turn from her to let more she'd from my eyes.  
"And," she speaks very quietly, nothing more than a whisper. Her voice, gentle, and motherly. "Is this person that you love, that you've dedicated your entire life to, is it Erik?" I nod my head silently, not wanting to speak, for fear of my voice faltering. "Then you know, that his heart is set on Christine." She lays a hand on my back and I loose it. I'm sobbing quietly, not holding back. She wraps her arms around me and pulls me into a hug. The madame Giry that I had known about always seemed so cold and start, but she was warm and motherly. No one had anything on my madame Giry.  
"The heart is a funny thing, sometimes we fall in love with the wrong people."  
"Oh, madame Giry, if I could change who I loved believe me I would!" She forces a hand under my chin and I look up at her.  
"I'm not talking about you my dear, I'm talking about Erik." She found me speechless, and I found no words to express my shock.  
"I... What?"  
"Erik, is in love with someone who does not love him for who he is, he is in love with someone who thinks he's someone else."  
"What has happened with the two of them? What has done to woo her?" I start to regain myself and my tears dry on my face.  
"He has just returned Christine a few hours ago, before you arrived actually. He gave me a letter to give to the two fools who run the theatre, and I will deliver it shortly. The production of Il Muto, is tomorrow night, and I suspect he will ask Christine to be the leading roll."  
"Christine in the role countess, and Carlotta as the Paige Boy." I sing under my breath, just like in the musical. Madame Giry looked stunned. "Have said something, done something wrong?"  
"I think you should let Erik hear you sing, he may change his mind about Christine." I shake my head.  
"No, the last thing I want is for him to fall in love with my voice and voice alone. Love is based on character and trust, not beauty. Is it not?"  
"For as young as you look, you hold more wisdom than most." I was shocked. Young? I was twenty six, almost twenty seven.  
"Madame, I am twenty six years of age, almost twenty seven." Madame Giry smirks and I smile, it was good to hear someone laugh. It was almost music to my ears.  
"Forgive me, but I thought you were no more than nineteen." I chuckle quietly and pull away from her hug, completely composed and sure of myself.  
"May I dance, in the ballet?"  
"If you say you are as good as you say you are, then you are more than welcome to join." I smiled at her, the smile reaching my eyes and turning me into a giddy school girl with her first crush. "How fast can you learn a routine?" I grin.  
"If we'll taught only twenty four hours." She pulls me off of the bed and hurries me down the hall and onto the stage where she starts to teach me the ballet for Il Muto. After a few minutes Meg is instructed to teach me as Madame Giry runs off to give the letter to the two fools.  
"Christine Daae has returned to you, and I am anxious her career should progress In the new production of Il Muto You will therefore cast Carlotta as the page boy And put Miss Daae in the role of Countess." I sing under my breath, just loud enough for Meg to hear me and her eyes go wide.  
"I must go tell maman that you sing beautifully, she can give you a chance in the stage like Christine." She runs off the stage and follows suit of her mother.  
"Meg, wait! No!" It was too late she was off and out if the room faster than I could process.  
If he heard me sing surely something would change, it had too; the whole, step on a butterfly and change your entire history, theory.  
Well, there was no telling of when I'd go back home, of when I could go back to my century. I missed my tiny apartment, I missed home.  
I missed New York, the big city, Broadway. I missed everything, and yet nothing.  
If I am to live here, then come want may, and love it.


	5. Cinq

I collapsed onto my bed, in just a few hours I would be performing with the ballet in Il Muto.

Madame Giry, of course, had given me easier dances and put me in the back. Even though I was better than what she was teaching me, I didn't have enough time to learn everything. Still, it was a kind gesture. And one I appreciated dearly.

I had a few of hours of me time before I would have to get ready. Infilled my purse out from under my bed and dug through it, search

ing for my phone and earned.

My fingers touched something metal and I pulled it out of my purse. My phone with earmuffs wrapped around it. I checked my bars, I had no service, no Wi-Fi, no data. That was fine, at least I had my music.

I put my earbuds in and played my favourite song before I turned it off. There was a knock on my door and it opened slightly as I hurried to put my phone back in my bag and put it under the bed.

"Rhayella, may I speak with you?" Mme. Giry asks poking her head around the corner. I nod and she closes the door behind her and takes a seat across from me where the chair to my vanity was.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't want you in the play tonight, I want you with Erik, I don't trust him."

"You'd be smart not too." I nodded and murdered in agreement.

"Everyone has defied his orders and I know he will strike tonight, I don't care what he does as long as he doesn't kill, maime, or wound anyone." I look to my hands

"He is not a kid that needs to be watched, Mme. Giry." I reply with as much respect possible.

"Your reaction tells me you know what is to happen, and I would like to keep that from happening, whatever it may be." I look to her dark chocolate brown eyes, trying to read them. There was no point, she was always readable, always warm and welcoming.

"What are you proposing?" She grabs my hands.

"Dress in a simple dress, an everyday dress, and stay by Erik tonight."

"Mme Giry, I do not have a dress, I am from the future, you must remember that. We wear pants, all of us, men and woman, on a consistent basis. They consider it formal to wear a dress, and that is a rare occasion."

"Then I will bring you one shortly." She gets up and leaves, going to grab a dress for me.

"I warn you," a voice spoke above. "If you get in my way tonight I will not care what I have to do to stop you." It was Erik, the man I loved since I was eleven.

"I have no intention of stopping anything tonight, but I will be with you the whole time." A silence.

"And how do you plan to do that?"

"I know enough about what will happen to know where you will be." Madame Giry presents me with a simple light blue dress, one similar in style to Belle's in Beauty and the Beast.

"This was all I could find." She hands NE the dress and I take it and she turns to leave. "Erik, do not harm this girl in any way shape or form. Do you understand me?" A very soft mumbled whisper came from him in agreement and with her satisfaction she left the room. I sighed and sat down on my bed and looked at the dress Madame Giry had given me. The top part was white with a ruffled front, and the bottom baby blue shirt had little roses on the hem. Erik appeared from the mirror and approached her, standing only a few feet away from me altogether.

"One of her own dresses." He's staring down at the dress I'm holding, and I look to him his eyes holding his past.

"How do you know that?" He glares at me.

"A story for another time." I knew that he was talking about his past, I knew because just like him I avoided my past. I knew the look of the past.

The pain in the eyes, the cold aura, the stiff posture, all of it. I knew it because I had used way too many times. I avoided people, was a recluse, I avoided interviews, and if I took one I gave them everything about nothing. No one knew me, not even my two friends, they knew barley more than the press.

My friends still knew nothing about me, while I knew everything about them. They were family, or the closest thing I had to it, seeing as mine either didn't want me or never stayed in touch, and mind you, that didn't change one bit at all when I became famous.

My life had been one big horrible ball of pain, and seeing as it was I learned that no human can be trusted with secrets and with that I learned to trust very little people. When I graduated highschool it was then that I was determined to make the best of life, and in turn the world blessed me with fame and fortune beyond my imagination, the world was kind of I was positive.

"She wore it, when she was younger," I start. "From when you knew her closely, when she brought you here." I gasp and a hand covers my mouth and then I quickly remove it so I fan speak clearly. "This is the dress from the night she rescued from the car-" I was cut off but his deep harsh tounge.

"Enough " He breathes. Too far, I had gone too far.

"Erik, I'm sorry, I didn't me-"

"How do you know this?" I smile at him weakly.

"A story for another time?" He shoots daggers in my direction and I'm forced to turn away from his cold and angry stare.

"We've got time." He shoots at me, and I sigh and motion for him to sit down on the bed next to me. He doesn't he stands in there, all brooding like. Clad in his white poet's shirt, black pants and boots, his fine half clay mask, and cape and gloves, the usual attire, he chooses to stand.

"It was many, many years ago to me, but to you it's about ninety years in the future." I seek a peak at him and his face is straight and solid, and perhaps hinted with his distrust of me, he wants to me go on, and I will. "And please, don't think me crazy."

"As crazy as a man living in the tunnels of an opera theatre?" I just nod and continue.

"I was born in nineteen ninety two, and was an orphan at the age of ten. I came across the Phantom of the Opera book when I was eleven, and withing twin weeks I had read it twice. Your backstory, was in the book Erik. I though you read it."

"I read most of it." I wipe a tear away from my cheek.

"Oh. I see." I stand up and take the dress behind the changing curtain and undress myself and put Madame Giry's dress on. I forgot that most dresses laced in the back, and I didn't have anyone else besides Erik in the room with me. He would have to lace me up. I walk out and step in front of him, his eyes curious as he looks at me. "This is a little embarrassing for me, but would you lace me up?" He nods and I turn around and his fingers start to play with the ties, and occasionally brush against the skin on my back sending little sparks of electricity where he touched me. He finished quickly and I slipped heels on.

"Come, we'll be late, and I don't want to miss Carlotta's acting." He said dryly, and pulled me out the door, and into a secret door hidden in the wall that allowed us to get backstage without being seen.

"That insolent boy, sitting in my box again." I hold my hand out and wait for him to give me the glass of throat poison for Carlotta.

"Give me the spray bottle, go scare people." He looks confused, but he hesitantly hands me the bottle and then takes off to wherever to eventually appear out on top and make his appearance. I found paid of black gloves laying around behind the set and put them on, as I listened to the music.

*"Your lordship sure would die of shock.* Sang one fool.

*"Your Lordship is a laughing stock.* Sang the other.

*"Shame, shame, shame.* they all sang together. I walked up to where Carlotta's spray was and very quickly, but silently replaced it with the spray Erik had given me.

"If he knew the truth, he'd never, ever go!" Sang Carlotta and I hurried up into the walks above the stage, knowing what would come next. Erik would hang Joseph Bouquet.

"Did I not instruct that box five was to be kept empty?" Erik's booming voice filled the theatre, scaring everyone and forcing people into panic. I looked down to see Christine say something.

"You're part, is silent, little toad." Carlotta spat at Christine.

"A toad, madame? Perhaps it is *you* who are the toad." I breathed under my breath, quoting the movie and quite possibly Erik.

"The ballet!" I heard Monsieur Reyer squeak in panic. I didn't realize I had zoned out, missing Carlotta's croak. Wait, that means that Buquet is about to die. I ran to one of the bridges where I could see Buquet tying a lasso.

*Wait, I thought Erik killed him, not hang himself.*

"Buquet!" I screamed, but my voice was lost in the music of the ballet and he jumped down, killing himself and scaring the ballerinas and the audience worse than before, sending everyone into mads panic and controlled chaos. I ran back down onto the stage and found Madame Giry trying to get the girls settled down from what they just saw.

I felt my stomach churn and roll, I wasn't to happy with what I just saw, and it was suicide not murder.

One thing to be happy about, was that Erik didn't kill another person. One less persons blood on his hands.

I needed air and fast, so I booked it all the way to the top of the populaire before I could throw up.

The freezing cold air hit my face and I shivered, the consequence of not bringing a cloak. I breathed in the air of Paris, realizing I hadn't been outside in a few days.

The view was gorgeous, nothing like the future but still beautiful.

I faintly hear voices coming from below me and look to see Raoul and Christine singing their hearts out. I looked for the Phantom, and saw him behind one of the gargoyles. His face twisted in pain, heart break, anger, and agony. What Christine was doing to him was wrong, choosing a cheating, drunk, gambling, man over the sweetest and most loving person. What she saw in him, I would never know.

Okay, sorry, Raoul was a decent human being right now. Now being the key word. Christine wouldn't know what he's really like until Love Never Dies, when he looses all the money and she has to sing to get her husband out of debt.

Yeah. Okay. I will admit it. I don't hate Raoul. I loathe him. I mean seriously what did Christine see in him?

They had now left the rooftop and Erik was holding the rose he had given Christine in his hands and crushed it. The roses he gave her, that was a symbol of his love for her, and she just left it there, on the rooftop. That girl just left Erik's heart on the rooftop, for some sorry excuse of a human.

Like I said. I loathe Raoul.

I sighed and went back inside, so that I wouldn't freeze to death. Poor Erik, loosing the girl of his dreams, loosing the person he practically helped raise.

The pain that must come from that, is one I can't even imagine.

I was in my room when I heard a soft knock on the door.

"Yeah, come in." I replied softly, and sat in the chair that belonged to the vanity. I had a mild headache and was nursing it with quiet time, little light, and water.

"Oh good." Madame Giry stepped into my room and layer a hand on my shoulder. "I was worried for you." I slowly looked to her, ignoring the sharp pain in my neck and head as I did so.

"He didn't kill Buquet." I said. "And Christine betrayed him." Tears form in the corners of my eyes, and I realize that my pain for him, this empathy I held for him, was one of the moat real things since I had been here.

"My dear, why do you cry for him, is he not a monster to you?" I gasped and my hand covered NY mouth in shock.

"Madame Giry," I slowly remove my hand. "Erik is no monster, not to me. You can't call someone a monster, when you yourself have been treated as such. It is from being treated like one, that I have learned to accept people, and love *him.*" She gave me a sad, small smile, showing her sympathy for me.

"Then why are you here with me, and not there comforting him?" I lean my head into my palms.

"Because, Madame Giry, it is Erik. What can I do? He barley knows me." Her expression hardened, and in the dim light she almost looked scary.

"Exactly, it is Erik, and he's never had a friend comfort him before. As for your job, just speak from the heart, that is what you do best." I abruptly stood up and grabbed a cloak to keep me warm through the descent to his home beneath the Opera house.

"I must thank you." I hug her small frame, and head to the mirror and move it to the side so I can sneak into the tunnel. "I'm afraid I will owe you." She shakes her head and approaches me.

"You owe me nothing. Now go." I turn and begin my descent to his lair.


	6. Six

I took a side entrance, so that I wouldn't have to trample through the freezing cold water again, and came out into the main area where the organ is.

Papers were thrown about, and candle stick holder were laying on the floor, with candles burnt out and wax soaking into the lush red carpet. I knew that maybe one day in the near future, Erik would come to regret the wax in his carpet, so I picked them up and put them back into position. The papers that were thrown around and laying in every possible place, I picked up and piled together. There was a piece of music that the melody looked to beautiful, I would have to try this piece later.

This home of his beneath the Populaire was cleaner then how I had previously found it, but it was still messy.

Erik hadn't surfaced in the hour that I had been down here, and it was starting to worry me. I knew his obsession with morphine from the book, and I had read it about it through other fan fiction writers, too. Erik using morphine wouldn't be a shock to me, it would be a disappointment for sure, but no, there would be no shock.

I searched every room for him, and no sign of him was anywhere, just his messy home that showed his outburst. It was then I remembered that he always had a secret passage to his bedroom, it was never out in public, for his bedroom always seemed to hold a coffin as a bed; some little morbid joke on his part.

I searched the books, but found no faux one, I checked the walls and the floor, and still no secret entry into his bedroom. I fell to the ground exhausted and completely giving up that he had a bedroom, coming to realize that he'd maybe gone to the top for some fresh air. I looked up at the half covered mirror, and saw many other mirrors covered in drapes. *Such a pity, that a creature, no a man, as beautiful as him, chooses to hide his face.* Mirrors. I bet he hid his bedroom behind one of these mirrors. No one would suspect him of it, it's a mirror, and he dare not look at his own reflection.

I got up and pushed the red velvet curtain off of the top of the mirror, and felt around the sides of it for a latch. There was no latch but I could feel a slight breeze coming from behind, indicating that there was something more behind the mirror. I pushed the mirror aside and there in the middle of the room, was a coffin.

I ran over to the side of it, and as predicted, he was there. He looked pale and he was most certainly passed out, and on instinct I reached out to him and held two fingers to the corner of his jaw for his pulse.

At first there was noting, and then as silent as a whisper in the dead of night, there was a pulse.

I released a breath I didn't realize I was holding, and pulled my hand away to wipe away tears that had secretly rolled down my face.

"There is no need to cry." His voice was nothing more than a whisper, hoarse and deep, and calm. Too calm.

"Enough with the morphine, Erik. I almost thought you were dead." There was was a quiver in my voice as I said the last word. His eyes opened, revealing his piercing gold eyes, the ones that somehow made me feel like a woman, and a child at the very same time. Those eyes that stripped every layer of clothing and flesh, leaving me as a skeleton.

Those eyes that burned.

"Almost."

Those eyes that both threaten and adore.

"What?" I breathed.

"You *almost* thought I was dead." He chided, and he sat up. He had his white poet's shirt on, exposing some of his chest, and it was evident that, even in this lack of light, he had faint lines of muscles. He looked to me for a reply, and I hadn't realized he was waiting until the silence between us stood too long.

"I've read your use with morphine, in fan-" I had to stop myself, I didn't need to explain that a twenty six year old still read fan fiction, and I definitely didn't need to explain fan fiction. "In books. If I hadn't known about it, I guess I would have assumed you dead from the beginning." I saw his eyes flicker from demon, from the monster he believed himself to be, to that innocent little boy that was rescued all those years ago. That innocent boy with endless wonder, and longing for a home. His expression became soft, no longer straight face with hard set lines, but kind and gentle, allowing me to see the man behind the monster.

"You show me kindness when I have shown you nothing but coldness and distance. Why?" His eyes pleaded with me, begged me, but as to what it was, I had not the faintest clue. Maybe kindness, a real home, love, maybe acceptance, there were so many things that that poor angel could beg for, so many, and I had no clue as to which he wanted most, needed most.

He had asked me *why.* Why had I been so kind to him? Why was I treating him with kindness when he had shown me none?

"Because, I too, have been treated as a monster before, and I remember how it feels." I peeled my eyes from him, looking anywhere but to where he was. Scanning the room was my best option. "And no one should know how it feels." I trembled as I had said the last sentence in almost complete silence.

Admiring I had a past was one thing, admiring it aloud was another.

"May I inquire why?" He was pleading with me, begging me, wanting to know how I understood him, how I knew what it was like to be treated as a monster.

I could hear the blood rush to my head, forcing me to think, to stay light on my feet. My heartbeat came next, becoming an accelerated K-thump in my chest, threatening to tear from chest and leave me breathless and dead. Dead on the floor in front of him.

Time slowed and as I struggled to quickly regain my mind, posture , and strength, he climbed out his bed and stood over me, a good six to eight inches taller than me. He had his usual black pants on, with his black boots. The same old phantom, the same classic ghost.

I took a shaky breath, terrified of what could come next.

"No," I murmur to myself, and my hand goes to the chain around my neck. "It is too painful, too deep, and too dark." I met his eyes. "It haunts me, Erik. Every move, every action, every day, it always comes back to haunt me." His hand is under my chin, and it's warm and soft, and calloused. He's comforting me.

"You know my past, can it be any worse?" With a simple nod of my head, I pull away, this wasn't about me, this was about him. Him. How he felt, how he was holding up. The entire reason I was here, was for him. This wasn't about me, and it wouldn't be, I wouldn't let him turn the rude and make it about my past. I was here to comfort him, not the other way around.

"So quick to turn the tides on me," I gathered my composure, and it's the regular old me, the one with her defences always up. "A simple trick really." I grabbed his wrist and led him out of that horrid room of his and into his artistic domain. "If you feel heartbroken, or sad, or hurt-"

"That is not how I feel." He protested, bit I simply ignored him and continued on with what I was saying.

"Fine, whatever. But however you feel, whatever you feel, there is no need for morphine Erik. Music is what you're good at, so channel your emotions through that." I was pleading with my eyes, he didn't need to use morphine, he had other sources.

"And how am I supposed to create music, when I feel nothing, when I feel like an empty bottomless pit?" I released his hand, and walked over to the piano he had set in the middle of the room and looked to him.

"May I?" He nods his head, and I take a seat on the bench.

My fingers lay over the cool ivory of the keys, and my time of practicing the instrument for hours on end floods to me. I depress two keys, C and A with my right hand and it started to play a melody. A sad, melancholy melody, but at least it was something. My left started playing a counter melody, with staccato, eighth notes and sixteenth notes, and many other techniques.

He stood there, his gold eyes watching me, watching my hands and they way I played the instrument. Then in the corner of my eye he was no longer there.

I could feel his presence behind me, the warmth of his body radiating onto my back. *He's behind me* His face was next to mine and all of a sudden I had to force my self really hard to concentrate on the piano and not him.

"Just keep playing." He whispers, and suddenly his hands are on the piano and he's playing with me.

Our hands are locked in a dance on the piano, and there is no telling how long we had been playing, but suddenly, his hands were on top of mine and we had finished playing. Somehow two different people came to one song, one ending. If that wasn't magic, then I don't know what was.

"You play with emotion." He removes himself and stands next to the piano. "Where did you learn to play?" I smiled, he was complimenting me, or as close to a compliment I. Could herewith him.

"Several people, I never settled on one. I learned just enough to know everything and then would spend hours upon hours practicing at our little music shop in the town." He was curious.

"You didn't have your own instrument?" I snorted and stood up.

"No, I was always moving around, didn't have room for an instrument." I walked over to the fireplace that had somehow still been going after a complete day. Logic told me that he had kept it going.

"Do you have one now?" I smile slightly and stare at the ground, he walks over and stands by me.

"No, my house is too small." I smile sadly. I look to him, that face that was handsome, and those liquid gold eyes.

His face more often seemed a mix of Ramin and Gerard, more of Ramin, and I loved Gerard just as much as Ramin and was never able to choose between the two.

My heart sank when I realized that there was no use getting attached to him there was no use because eventually I would go back. On one random day in the future,I would return back to my life in the twenty-first century.

I sank to the floor and Erik joined me. I reached out for his hands, and when I touched him he flinched. He looked to me, pain from many years ago, hope, and sadness, flashed through his eyes.

"I won't hurt you." He looks to his hands and I lean into him and take my right hand and hold the side of of his exposed face in it, and he turns his head into my palm.

"Must I be destined to that cruel fate of never being with her?" He questions, and it's soft and hours and a pitch or two higher. He was on the verge of tears, and then finally when he looked at me, one lonely single tear passed down without his permission, and I pulled him into me, hugging him tightly and just holding him. He needed someone to just hold him, as he had lovably never been before. He was so deprived of touch, and love, it really did make my heart ache.

Reading the stories, watching the movie, seeing the plays, and listening to the music will take you through the motions, but it compares go nothing of actually being there with him. The pain is so real from him, I can feel it too.

It's taking an innocent child heart and stomping it and gating it, and telling it horrible things, and then putting it back in that child. And one of these days, that child is going to believe everything that was said to it.

Underneath that tough wolf facade, there was really just an innocent, little puppy. A little kid, really, who deserved the world and everything it had to offer.

Finally, Erik fell asleep after about an hour so, and he had shifted to laying his head in my lap. I ran my fingers through his Raven black hair, enjoying the soft silky texture between my fingers.

My sense of time had seemed to speed up, even though I was down here in a dimly lit room with no outside source of light, only candles. Yet, in this room, where daylight ceased to exist, time passed faster.

Somehow I found myself quietly singing to him, to be sure to not wake him, as this would be the most sleep he probably got for a few days.

*And it's a sad picture*

*The final blow hits you*

*somebody else gets*

*What you wanted again*

Leave it to good old Taylor Swift to relate too.

I hear footsteps enter from the side, but don't bother to look up, as I kept singing and playing with his hair.

"You really do love him?" Madame Giry's voice reached me, and as I looked up I put a finger over my lips for her to be quiet, and she nodded in agreement.

"My entire life." I whisper, and smile at the human asleep in my lap.

"And if he never loves you back?" She takes a few steps closer, her heels clicking along the way.

"You must understand, that where I come from, he's not real, none of you are. You're all just a story in a book, made into a musical." I sigh. "I lived my entire life for a fictional character, my entire life, Madame Giry. If he does not love me back…" I trail off and think of what to say next. "It will be no different than when he was a character in a book." I stirs in his sleep, but then quickly relaxes and settles.

"You're a strong woman, I wish you the best of luck with him."


	7. Sept

I moved my head and realized that sometime during the night I had fallen asleep with Erik still in my lap, and that somehow I had been moved to the swan bed. *Erik.*

The red silk sheets enveloped me in a soft, cloud like hug, and lulled me back to sleep, taunting me to return to their heaven between the covers.

The black curtain which surrounded the bed was down, not allowing me to see out, but him to see in.

*Erik and has damn two-way stuff.*

I pulled my arm out of the covers and the cool air of the catacombs kissed me, sending a chill through my body and forcing goosebumps on my skin.

I recoiled my hand as if I had stuck it in a fire, and pulled it under the warm silk sheets. I pulled the covers up to my chin and rolling onto my side, took the fetal position and shivered.

No, it was too cold to get out of the warm bed, and I was too lazy to even try and pull myself from the sheets. Looks like I would be spending the day here.

Here in the Phantoms home. Would he allow that? Just as a million thoughts were zooming through mu head the curtain lifted, and I being the stubborn person I was, didn't look to see Erik come in, refusing him. Knowing that if I faced him, I would have to get out of the warm bed. So, I didn't open my eyes or turn over, I just laid there, hoping he would ignore me.

"You're not sleeping the day away." He said, and he seemed to be waiting for me to make some kind of sign or movement that I had heard him, but I didn't move. He sighed and sat down on the edge of the swan. "I saw you wake, you're not fooling me." I sighed.

"Merde." I said under my breath, as I rolled over to face him.

"Ladies don't swear." I rolled my eyes.

"I'm not a Lady, I'm a woman." I winked and he just narrowed those gold eyes at me, casting judgement upon me as an angel casting judgement over a demon.

Those eyes that held the world, and absolutely nothing. Innocent, yet seductive. They made me feel protected and yet exposed. His eyes paradoxes to the rest of him, holding more emotion than any other part of his body combined.

"The female gender does not swear," he paused and eyed me up and down. "Nor do they spend the entire day in bed." I hrmphed, and grumbled inaudible, nonsensical things under my breath. I looked back to Erik and saw his eyes full of shock and wonder, I let out a giggle and his soft wonder eyes began to glare at me. "What?" He snaps.

"Your expression was hilarious." I giggled even more as he glared at me deeper, trying to threaten me with his eyes. "Oh, lighten up ghostie." I grinned and raised the red silk to cover my nose and mouth.

"Don't call me ghostie." He spit back darkly.

"So, what are you gonna do now? Work on Don Jaun?" I covered my mouth with my hands realizing I had said to much.

I took the opportunity to see what he was wearing, his black jacket and that dark red, almost maroon vest that had black roses emrordiered into it, and an even darker red tie thing. It was the outfit he wore when he lured Christine to his layer, and it had to be my second favourite costume of his.

Costume? No, this wasn't a costume, these were his actual real life clothes, and they fit him well, contrasting with his mask.

His white mask, the one thing that screamed innocent, holy, beautiful. White. A white porcelain mask to represent his innocence and goodness.

I reached his eyes liquid gold eyes again and saw a flicker of mischief pass through them.

*Oh no.*

That was my one and only thought as I looked into his eyes, and blush spread through my cheeks, I had to be as red as a tomato. I blushed because of his eyes, there was seriously something wrong with me.

He yanked the silk sheets off of me and I shivered harshly and reached for them but he grabbed my wrists, his calloused hands warm.

One thought went through my mind as he touched me, *He was warm.* It was then that I did something very inappropriate for this century.

I somehow managed to get myself free of his tight grasp and wrapped my arms around his neck, and pushed his black jacket away from his waist as my legs wrapped around his waist, and pull him on top of me.

That caught him off gaurd, and he fell onto me with panic in his eyes and a soft mumble as his face landed in one of the pillows next to me.

I buried my face in the crook of his neck, absorbing all his heat. My own personal heater, I thought to myself with a content smile.

He struggled at first, trying to see if he should get off of me or lay on top of me, and to my joy he settled for the latter.

He turned his head so that his face faded the side of my neck and I could feel his hot breath against my neck, sending a heated shiver through my body, bring my senses to life. I heard him realease a deep musical chuckle, and I got white hits tingling sensation in my lower stomach.

"Had I known," he whispered in a deep seductive voice. "That my presence so close to you caused this reaction…" I let out a little squeak by accident and this time he laughed. A tender, playful laugh, one that said he was truly content and happy where he was. His laugh made my heart smile and I pulled him closer to me, enjoying his warmth, but he wouldn't have it anymore.

Reaching beneath my back he then stood up and slid his arms under my butt, and walked over away from the bed and acted to set me down, and started to release me, but I didn't budge.

"Come on, get off." He spoke quietly and it was a caring tone, soft and sweet, something to put in your tea or coffee, or dance to, sweet like a little kids unconditional love.

"No." I responded playfully, and I swear I could literally feel him roll his eyes in his head.

He tried to pry me off, peeling my arms away and then my legs, only to have to repeat the process, as I would quickly wrap my self around the opposite he was pulling on. He learned after several tries, that he was failing.

"Mon Dieu, you're like concrete." He said exasperated, and allowing his hands to go back to their previous position, under my butt.

Which, I was fine with, thanks for asking.

I blew air through my nose. "A gentleman doesn't swear." I said quoting him.

"Oh but I'm not a gentleman," his voice mischievous and playful, and deep. It was a voice that lulled you to sleep, and yet kept you awake begging for more. "I'm a man."

Mon Dieu, take me now. No, don't think that, a logical voice in my head said. You've known him since your even, it's okay to think that, said the other voice, the voice that craved desire. I chose to simply ignore them for the moment.

I didn't know how to react to what he said, my mind an utter mess and completely blank. So, I did what I usually do when I don't know how to react, I laughed.

I let out a little sing-song pixie laugh. Cute, sweet, and short. That was all the situation needed.

How long had it been since he slept? I need to ask him, he needs his sleep, he won't function properly.

"When was the last time you slept?" I asked, genuinely interested and concerned for my poor innocent Erik.

"Yesterday."

"Don't lie." I hissed into his ear. He sighed.

"A week ago, maybe, if I've kept my days straight." I hmphed again.

"I'm not getting off of you until you get sleep." He didn't move, not an inch, and he didn't say anything, he just stood there. Thinking, I hope

"Are you suggesting we sleep together, madame?"

"Are you making an innuendo, Erik?" I whisper and put on my best seductive voice. "I didn't think you had it in you." I smirked and then next thing I knew he took his shoes off and he was standing over the bed waiting for me to get off.

No way in hell did I trust him, he was sly, and sneaky, and had his tricks. If he thought I would let him go that easy, then he underestimated me quite a bit.

I let go of him and laid in the bed but grabbed his tie.

"I took my shoes off, and it's now you decided not to trust me. How…" He reached his brain for word, but was coming up shirt.

"Don't think too hard, you might loose your gifts if you do." I winked at him and he stared at me.

"Odd. I was going to say odd." I let go of his tie and scooted over so he had room to crawl in next to me. He laid down on his left side, the uncovered side, on the pillow. The white porcelain mask facing me. I curled right back into him, stealing his warmth. "I thought you said you would let go." It was a statement, not a question.

"I did."

"Then why are you so close to me?" He didn't understand kindness. Poor thing. He didn't understand that I wanted be near him simply because he was warm, he must have thought there was an alterior motive.

"Because I'm cold." I reply with a team followed shortly after.

"If I pulled the covers up would you no longer be cold?"

"Yes."

"Do you want me too?"

"Do you want too?" I looked into his gold orbs again, indescion screaming at me through them. He didn't want too, but it wasn't right for me to be so close to him, it was proper.

Well fuck, who were we kidding, me being down here by myself with him wasn't proper. I didn't care and so it seemed, neither did he.

"No." I smiled warmly and shut my eyes.

"Good. Me either." His arm wrapped around my small frame, pulling me closer to him so that I was pressed to against him. I snuggled into him even more, burying my gave in his vest.

He smelled like paper, and candle was, and the damp cave he lived in, and he smelled a little-used night personified.

Hauntingly beautiful, yet dangerous.

His long piano hands got tangled in my dark brown hair and I fell back to sleep.


	8. Huit

**Erik's Pov**

Two days ago a mysterious woman ended up on my stage, appearing out of no where. She wore different and weird clothing, had items on her not of this world, and a book.  
A book that contained my past, or rather, my future.

It contained every little detail, every little error, and then some.  
The book wasn't the most interesting thing, no it was the notes. The elegantly scribbled notes to the side.

They were an array from, "You stupid, son of a witch," to "Aww, that's beautiful."  
There was one note in particular that caught my attention, one that was scribbled at the bottom of the last page.

 _I devote every minute of my life to you, either I be asleep or awake, everything I do is for you, in the chance of one day meeting you_.

That was written most elegantly, standing out more beautiful than the others. There was something hauntingly beautiful about her hand writing, maybe it was too beautiful, or the fact that it looked very similar to mine.  
Her note. Oh, how I stared at it, trying to decipher it, trying to figure out why she would devote her entire life to someone who was so violent, and so destructive.

I had confronted her, told her I knew of the note, bit her expression was worried, and then I lied. I let her keep her privacy, I told her I had not read all the notes, that they didn't interest me. She was relieved.  
Why was she so nervous about it?

Then came last night, where she been so open and so closed off. I got her to go into her past ever so small, and tell me just short of something.

One thing I knew, she was ashamed of it. Another thing I knew? She believed her past was worse than mine. Not possible, I reminded myself, my past was the worst.  
She touched the metal chain around her neck, I couldn't see the end of it as it was tucked down into her dress. It must have been a rather long chain, as when she moved or vent over it never fell out of her dress.

A secret, her secret. One I was determined to find out, one that wouldn't go unnoticed.  
She knew my secret, but I didn't know hers. And God knew just how much I wanted to know her secret.

Somehow I ended up falling asleep in her lap on the floor next to the fireplace.  
I wasn't fully asleep when Madame Giry came down, and I had accidentally heard their conversation.

She admitted that she was in love with me, but that wasn't possible, how could someone so beautiful like her fall for someone like me... Then again, she said in the future that the people who read books, my book specifically, fell in love with me.

Me. A monster. A murderer.

She had fallen asleep sometime in the middle of the night comforting me, and I had ever so gently picked her up and placed her on the swan bed.

Ever since last night, allowing herself get closer to me, even if that was next to nothing, she had been a little different. More lighthearted, more smiles, she was warmer, more open.

Her small smile, with those plump pink lips, made my heart melt for her, making me want to get closer to her, to discover everything about her. Those deep blue eyes that seemed to almost change colour in the light, we're a deep blue almost brown last night, and all I wanted to do was swim in them. She was siren to my heart, a heart that was for Christine, that loved Christine. So why was I thinking of Rhay?" And what a weird and wonderful name she had.

Rhayella Winters. A name in a fairytale. Yet she acted as if her life, as if her past, was nothing but hell.

The more I thought about her, the more I wanted to know her secret, and the more curious I got.

Solution? Stop thinking about her. No, that peace of mind never came. Instead, I started thinking about her more and more, wondering if she could sing, or was talented in the arts. I think she mentioned something about that before, but at the time I didn't care.

Since when did I care for this temptress?  
Since she started to open up to you last night, my mind chided.

If I was doomed to my fate with Christine, would she be such a horrible option? Would she be a better option.

Jesus, Erik, I think, she's not an object so don't treat her like one; she has feelings just like you.

Since when did I care about her feelings, when did I start to care if I hurt them? Something was wrong with me.

I watched her through the curtain, as she recoiled at the cold air and slunk back into the sheets. I didn't want to wake her, she was so beautiful, so peaceful. Not fighting the world for a place in it every Second.

She had that look, that one look that everyone grew out of, but it seemed she accepted it. That she would never be good enough, that her being in this world was burden to everyone around her. I wanted to reach her, to show her just how important she was. But I couldn't, I had Christine, but we both knew know that that would never end happy. Christine was always destined for Raoul.

Our conversation was natural, simple, easy, and absolutely about nothing. Christine and I hadn't had a conversation yet, I had just sung to her, but that was it, and to add to that she pulled my mask off when I had told her not too.

Yet, her lay Rhay, her hand touched my mask, and she had asked and I denied her, she had not pushed me.

I know she already knew what was under here, and she just wanted to see if it was true, but she still respected my wishes.  
She had, so far, seemed to be more of an angel than Christine.

She had glued herself to me, willingly touched me, her entire body entwined around me, and she had refused to let go  
Christine would never do that. She would rather be caught dead.

She pulled me into bed with her, trusting me, trusting I wouldn't harm her. Here I was, holding the moat gorgeous girl in the world. The most beautiful girl in the world and she was laying here, next to a monster, and she already admitted her feelings towards me to Madame Giry.

This little vixen, temptress, what have you, had stolen her way into my heart withing a matter of a few days.

Maybe this was love, I thought. Everything was easy, conversation and contact, and longing. Mon Dieu, the longing. So intense and burning, and yet gone withing a fraction of a second because of her, her smile or movement could change the mood faster than I could blink.

Being around her, I didn't have as much control under her as I did Christine, but I was okay with that. If less control meant she would he here forever, than I was absolutely content with that.

If less control meant she was mine, then so be it. Come what may, I _would_ have her.


	9. Neuf

Erik forced me to go to the surface for food and to prove to Madame Giry that I was indeed alive, and not dead by the phantoms hand. So dressed I t he same clothes that Madame Giry had given to me the previous night, I surfaced to the Prima Dona room, where I was currently staying, seeing as they were actually really full for the season.

The candles were out in my room except for those on the vanity desk/mirror, where Madame Giry just happened to be sitting.

"Bonjour, madame." I grinned at her and smiled, but her face was stone cold, no sign of emotion to be found anywhere on her face, her eyes better than Erik's. His eyes always showed emotion, hers never betrayed her.

It was probably the fact that Erik had never had anyone tell him that his eyes decives him, that if you looked close enough you could see emotions flicker in his eyes.

"You do realize it's sixteen-hundred, don't you?" Oh hell, that was four o'clock in the afternoon. Mon Dieu, what she must think of me! I nod my head no. "We feared you ran away or were taken, but here I am to find you spending your days and nights with him." I was offended. She was assuming what she did not know.

"Madame, I respectfully ask that you do not speak of what you do not know. Do not judge people on an accusation, or pretenses. It is rude, and unbecoming of the partaker." I hold my head higher, making myself look strong and proud, something I rarely did, as I hardly got the opportunity.

"When is the last time you ate?" Mon Dieu, her name really should be changed to Mother Giry, as that was how I was being treated.

"A few days ago actually, before I got here." I relIed my posture and her face upon me softened.

"Grab as much food as you want, but hurry back, we need to talk about some certain affairs."

I came back with cheese, meets and breads, and they were all delicious, none processed foods. I didn't realize how good it was, and the good food was definitely something I would miss when I went back to the future.

I sat down on the bed as Madame Giry stared at me.

"So," I say shoving bread in my mouth. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I do hope you know that you cannot stay here for free, that is if you wish to do so." I nodded my head and swallowed.

"I know, I'll start looking for a job if you can just-"

"I've talked to the managers, and we've come to an agreement." Eyes pop out of my head.

"What?"

"You will audition for Prima Donna and you will be provided the Prima Donna room, three meals, and five thousand francs."

"Is that if or when I get the job?"

"Today, if you want." She was insightful, as I would learn as she said the next sentences. "I know you have a song already prepared, most singers do." She was right, but it wasn't a popular song, it was from Hamilton, Burn, Eliza's song to him after the Maria Reynolds affair, and I loved it. So, I learned it and perfected it.

"I do, but it's not an opera piece." She waved her hand dismissively.

"I told them that you had written a song, and they're fine with that. I assume it's from the future." She trailed off and she wanted me to confirm her suspicion.

"Yeah, it's actually from a new musical." I smiled, missing listening to Hamilton. Another of my favourite musicals, it followed after Love Never Dies. I frowned, realizing I couldn't sing, especially if I wanted this to stay the same to the stories.

Well, hell, I hate the endings. God, I want to change them, but it's too late. Yet, I know that as soon as anyone hears me sing they will only want more of my voice, or at least that's how it was back home. "And what of Christine, have you asked her?"

"She's requested a leave of absence until the ball." That explains her leave of absence for four months in the story.

"Carlotta?"

"Her voice is still damaged, thank God." It was now completely clear that even she hated tolerating Carlotta. "Why do you hesitate to take the opportunity?"

Because I was in love with Erik, and I didn't want him loving me for my voice. That was of course, if he stopped thinking of Christine and would open his eyes. When he would open his eyes I would be there for him, and hopefully him for me.

After all these years, after all the pain, torment and nightmares, here I was, with him. The love of my life I Gus's you could say. Here was I was helping him, and now being asked to sing.

"You know how talented Erik is with his voice, how he can manipulate people, hypnotize people?"

"More so than I would like to admit."

"That is my voice when I sing." I set the last few bites of cheese and bread on the counter, the meat completely consumed. I hadn't realized how hungry I had been, as I hadn't eaten in day's, and even then j was still hungry. "But," I say with a little more cheer in my voice. "If you ask this of me then I will do it. I owe you this." I smile at her and she at me, warmth and comfort now between us. Amazing how I took to one person so much, in such little time she was like a mother to me. "When is the try out?"

"Now." Panic in me, and with the speed of light I was out the door on the stage explaining why I was late, leaving Erik out of the picture of course.

"Whenever you're ready Madame Winters, is it?" I shook my head yes.

"Actually, it's Mademoiselle, Monsieur."

"Ah, yes, of course. When you're ready." He motioned towards me and I took several breaths before beginning the song.

 _I saved every letter you wrote me_ , I started quietly so that I seemed unhurt and innocent.

 _From the moment I read them, I knew you were mine._

 _You said you were mine._

 _I thought you were mine._

**Erik's POV**

"Giry." I growled at the woman from the shadow the open mirror was casting.

"Good afternoon to you too, Erik." As I studied her I could clearly see gray in her hair now, all the time that passed as a ballet instructor for the Opera house and stressed her, turning several strands if her hair grey. She was only ten years older than I, and tine had not done her any justice.

"What did you do with her?" She looked at me like I was accusing her falsely, and I hiked to god I wasn't.

"She's merely auditioning for Prima Donna, have you heard her sing?" She sang, she was invested in music? Why did she hide this from me?

Now, everything made sense, why I had a dream of an angel signing to me. She was the angel. That beautiful voice that stopped singing and caused me to wake up, and it was then that I heard the conversation between them last night.

Her voice put me to sleep, allowing peace on my mind.

Then I heard it, the voice of an angel, so soft and so sweet, magical and endearing. Her voice a soft spot to me now.

I made my way to my usual seat in box five, and I watched her sing, watched her movements. I saw emotions in her, something rare, as they were genuine emotions, not the fake emotions actors put up.

 _"You and your words flooded my senses_

 _Your sentences left me defenseless_

 _You built me palaces out of paragraphs_

 _You built cathedrals_

 _I'm re-reading the letters you wrote me_

 _I'm searching and scanning for answers_

 _In every line_

 _For some kind of sign_

 _And when you were mine_

 _The world seemed to"_

Burn

Burn"

She stopped singing. No, keep going, my mind begged, and I realized just exactly what this woman had done. She had wrapped me around her finger, either she meant to or not, she had, and knowing myself, the only way to accept what she was doing to me, making me feel. Was to blame her. And I would do plenty of that in due time.

Andre and Firmin sat there, not being able to recover themselves, still waiting for her spell to be cast off them.

"You're hired." They said in unison, and I rolled my eyes. They knew nothing if running an opera house, they treated fit like a business, but it was art. It took talent and art to run this damned house, this Opera house that I helped design, and they had nothing. Not one speck of music in their soul.

Well, they had an interest in pretty woman and pretty voices.

She walked off stage and presumably made her way back to the Prima Donna room.

I knew she had kept this secret from me. Why would she hide a voice as good as hers? Unless she didn't want me to find out, and then a thought hit me.

I'll play along, pretend I had never heard her, that was easy. The more difficult part, getting her to sing for me, in front if me.

If she knew anything of me, she'd know my music could make the unsuspecting person do whatever I wanted then to do, if I could get them in a hypnotized state, that was.

So, it would take days, weeks, maybe even months, but I needed to hear her voice one more time. I wanted her to sing for me and no one else. She would be mine, there was no escaping from this now. She was wrapped around my finger, just as I was wrapped around hers, we were entwined in loves duet. There was no escaping, no going back now.

She would be mine, and no one else's. I would not loose her, not anyone. Not like I had lost Christine.

Christine. Oh Christine. I covered my face in my hands, feeling guilty and horrible. What had I done?

I had, in a matter if days, become obsessed with another woman and forgotten about Christine.

Ah, but Christine, I chided, would have never willingly touched you, she was scared, so innocent, so unsure. Christine would have never comforted the man behind the mask, she had after all, removed my mask. The one and only, rule I had given her.

And Rhay. Oh god, Rhay. That voice, that personality, that beautiful creation that was so kind and compassionate to me, a monster. She knew what lay behind my back, and she had touched my mask the first time, and I threatened her. The second time she asked, and I denied her. She left it alone, she did not ask again, she did not persist, nor disobey. She respected my wish.

This woman that was beautiful, and yet held a secret, that had a past she wouldn't dare touch. So similar to me, more than she knew. More than I cared to admit.

She would sing for me again, that much was clear.


	10. Dix

**Rhay**

My elbows rested against the desk and my head was in my hands.

 _Dear God, what have I done?_

I probably just screwed up the whole entire plot of Phantom of the Opera because Madame Giry had convinced me to sing. That woman can be so forceful and so convincing, I didn't realize what I had done until it was too late, until I had gotten the job.

The mirror slid across it's track and Erik stepped into the room. I mentally groaned, he was the last person I wanted to see.

" You look exhausted." I snort. The audacity of him, he was blunt, which was missing from any of the works he had been in.

"To say the least." I snap back at him.

"You're Prima Donna?" I turn around in the chair to face him.

"How do you know about that?" My eyes narrow and I study him, nothing showed on him, no tell, not even his eyes, because this time his eyes were exactly like his posture. Cold, unfriendly, threatening.

"It's my Opera house, I know of everything that goes on." My expression softens at him, and I knelt my elbows on my knees and resumed the position of head in hands, and I let out a long sigh. "You don't seem happy about the position. Why?"

"I could be changing the story, rewriting the entire history." He steps towards me, a foot away, and I could smell him, that smell of a cave and candle wax, and night personified. I wanted to throw myself on him. I can't, he was in love with Christine, obsessed with her, he felt nothing towards me.

"Isn't that good thing?" I look up at him.  
"If we assume that this story, that all these people here are fake, fictional. And that maybe the writer of the book twisted the story, then yes its fine. But if this is real, I could have rewritten history. The world I know, could no longer exist." He knelt down on front of me, and those liquid gold eyes screamed kindness, and understanding, they screamed pain.

"If you could change everything, would you?"

"Yes," I rush, not a second thought popped into my head, it was the one and only thing in my head. "This is one of the many things I would change."

"Why?" His black hair was slicked back, an air of elegance to him because of it, and as I studied his hair, it was his real hair, not a wig, and not blonde.

"Because it would means Christine would be with you, and I wouldn't be here, in lo-" I caught myself and quickly changed the subject. "Why are you so curious about this?"

"Natural curiosity." He replied his voice lower and smoother than normal.

"Curiosity killed the cat, you know?"

"Oh, I know." Mischief flashed in his eyes and then quickly became cold and foreign again.

"Did you know that Christine requested a leave of absence?" His eyes narrowed at me.  
"How did you know that?"

"Giry." He sighs quietly. "It gives you time to work on your Opera now, doesn't it?" He nods, but stands up and makes his way to the mirror.

"Come." He holds his hand out and I look to where he stands. "You need your rest."

"I could sleep here." I remark.

"You protest."

"I do." I didn't want to be near him, but the fact that he was going to let me sleep down there with him was enticing, but I wanted to be alone.

"Why, you didn't hesitate before?" My right hand grasped around the chain on my neck, and I watched him eye the chain, he would want to know what that was, I knew he would ask sometime soon.

"I need to think, I need to be by myself." He wasn't going to let this go, that much was clear.

"I can guarantee that you will not have alone time, as people will be wanting to congratulate you, down with me I can promise price and quiet."

"Will you leave me to my own devices?" He nods his head slowly.  
"As you wish."

Erik waves his hand towards the swan bed, and as I cast my gaze upon it, sleep no longer sounded pleasant. I sighed and made my way over, I could feel his gaze on me as I walked in and pulled the rope, causing the black curtain to fall. I backed up and sat on the edge of the bed. I pulled the twenty inch chain out of my dress and stared at the floral locket.

Memories flooded my mind, and they weren't good ones.

 _It was late at night, and I was walking home from a rehearsal of wicked because my car wouldn't start. I had argued with myself that I could wait, or catch the night bus. If I waited I'd stay in my car, no way of getting food or drink, and no toilets, and I'd have to sleep in my back seat. I didn't like it, so I decided to walk the two miles to the bus stop._

I shuddered thinking about that night, and then slipped the locket back down my dress.

I laid on the soft silk sheets, allowing the cool dampness of the air envelop me, causing a shiver to escape and rack my body.  
I let the shivers run through me for what seemed like an hour before I finally decided to pull the covers up. Then I just layer there, counting the seconds, minutes and hours, and two hours had passed before I could no longer stay in the bed.

I climbed out of the bed and heard soft beautiful music coming from the instrument he was playing. It sounded like he wanted one thing but knew he desperately needed the other one, a song of sadness and yet hope. I sighed, I knew that feeling. The feeling of everything, and yet nothing. I pushed the curtain aside and saw him sitting at the piano. I quietly walked up behind him, he wore his white poet's shirt, and black pants, and his mask was on which meant he knew I got up or he'd been wearing it the entire time.

"You didn't sleep." He hadn't even looked at me and he knew I hadn't sleep.

"How did you-?" He stopped playing and turned his head so he could see me out of the corner of his eye.

"Know? You talk and fuss, which you did neither." I debated to sit next to him on the bench or not, and then I did without even realizing I sat down.

"What were you playing?" I asks him something short of a whisper but quieter than an inside voice.

"Something that was in my head." He turns back to the piano and lays his fingers on the cool ivory and ebony keys.

"Will you sing for me?" I wanted to hear his voice, I hadn't heard it yet, and j was hoping it would be like the books said, enchanting and memorizing, the ability to make you do anything he wanted you too.

"Will you sing with me?" I leaned NY head against his shoulder and sighed. I was in no mood to do anything, especially sing.  
"No."

"Why? You got Prima Donna, your voice has to be somewhat good." Flattery, something he would learn didn't work on me, even from me.

"I don't want you to fall in love with my voice." I reply shyly, hoping he wouldn't hear that, but he had excellent hearing and heard just about everything.

"You're in love with mine already, what would be the difference?" His arm wrapped around and laid his hand on my shoulder and pulled me tight. He put his chin on top of my head and sighed, his hot breath tingling my scalp.  
"I didn't fall in love with you just because of your voice. It's also you're personality that I love." Oh, fuck. I turned bright red, brighter than Rudolph's nose. He just chuckled that seductive chuckle of his, the one I would do anything for. "I didn't mean it like that," I stumble trying to recover from what I had said.

"I know." He kissed the top of my head and I closed my eyes. "You don't want me to fall in love with your voice, only to find out later that I don't love *you.*" He let me go and placed his hands on the keys again. "Will you sing with me one day in the near future." There was no point in hiding my voice since I was now Prima Donna.

"I promise." He doesn't start playing, or singing he's just sitting there and it's oddly comfortable, the silence we're sitting. And in the silence I heard his heartbeat.

Sitting here I noticed time flew perfectly, not too fast, not too slow, but just right, allowing me to absorb everything.

I noticed the smell of his home, wet, cold, rocky, and the and the smell of him. This time his scent was different, but only slightly. He was using cologne.

I realized just how small and skinny my frame was compared to him. He had muscles, most toned in his arms, but he was toned, muscular. Above the average person really. A protectors body.

The light in the cave was warm golden brown, making the atmosphere slightly more romantic than it should have been.  
"Why do you wear that chain?" He finally asks breaking the silence.

"A reminder of my past." I say gloomly.

"And what would that reminder be?"

"Of when my career took off." He just nodded and then started playing.

"Night time sharpens,  
Heights each sensation."

That song, that song was my weak spot, the one that broke down all my walls and could me cry. And that's exactly what I did.

He didn't finish, he stopped and turned to hug me, holding me in his arms, allowing me to feel loved and be comforted. Dear Lord, how I loved this man.

Somehow he had picked me up, brought us to the bed and my legs were across his as I sat sideways and holding onto that man for dear life.

Sobs racked my body, and I couldn't breathe. It took many long minutes and a wet spot in his vest before I composed myself and wasn't crying.

"If I sing for you, right now. You need to promise me something."

"I can't promise a lot of things." He starts bit I cut him off

"Promise. Me." I beg, and take a shaky breath.

"I promise." he whispered, and shoved his face into my hair.

"Don't leave me."

"I won't." He pulls me closer, tighter, but not tight enough.

"Who knows when love begins  
Who knows what makes it start  
One day it's simply there  
Alive inside your heart." I start but it's a soft sound, a loving caring sound.  
"It slips into your thoughts  
It infiltrates your soul  
It takes you by surprise  
Then seizes full control

Try to deny it  
And try to protest  
But love won't let you go  
Once you've been possessed

Love never dies  
Love never falters  
Once it has spoken  
Love is yours

Love never fades  
Love never alters  
Hearts may get broken  
Love endures  
Hearts may get broken  
Love endures

And soon as you submit  
Surrender flesh and bone  
That love takes on a life  
Much bigger than your own

It uses you at whim  
And drives you to despair  
And forces you to feel  
More joy than you can bear

Love gives you pleasure  
And love brings you pain  
And yet when both are gone  
Love will still remain

Once it has spoken  
Love is yours

Love never dies  
Love never alters

Hearts may get broken  
Love endures  
Hearts may get broken

Love never dies  
Love will continue  
Love keeps on beating  
When you're gone

Love never dies  
Once it is in you  
Life may be fleeting  
Love lives on  
Life may be fleeting

Love lives on"

"Don't ever hide your voice from me again." He hissed into my ear, and I nodded and let tears slide down my face silently.

His hand ran through my dark brown curls, and the other laid on my lap with his hand grabbing my waist, pulling me closer to him.  
I had hoped that I wouldn't have had to sing in front of him this early on, but I needed that promise. No one has ever promised that. He had just made that promise and he only knew me a few days.

I sent up a silent prayer to no god in particular asking that they would allow Erik and I together.

Now, I waited for an answer from up above. And if I was real lucky, he'd be able to keep it.

**Erik's POV**

I had made my back to the tunnels, that way I would come through her mirror in the Prima Donna room. Her voice still rang loud and sweet in my ears, and therein she had in that song was like she had experienced it before.  
I could see her through the mirror, she looked sad, defeated somehow, as if she never wanted to be the Prima Donna. I didn't blame her, it was big role to fill and it was often difficult.

She was sad, I offered her refuge, and she was now singing.

Her voice, exactly like an angels, except ten times sweeter. I was drawn to her voice. It was an addiction, the drug I craved. I knew it was then I couldn't live without her

What about Christine?

Yeah, what about her?

Dear god man, get hold of yourself, you could live without Rhay's voice, after all you had Christine and her voice.

Christine held nothing for me now.  
And like a light that went on in my head, allowing me to see clearly, it was her that I was now in love with, and it happened in only a few short days.

She had finally stopped crying, and took several big breaths before she spoke quietly.  
"I need to go." My heart sank, I didn't want her too.

"As you wish." She let out a soft musical laugh.

"Not like that, ghostie." She smiled up at me and buit her lip. Her blue eyes pierced me like a gun shot, and all I wanted to do was hold her here with me forever.

"Ghostie?" I mumbled angrily, and she laughed again.

"Yeah, you know short for Opera Ghost."

"Never," I glare at her. "Call me that again." Her eyes changed to a playfulness, something I had yet to experience.

"Or what, Mr. Ghostie?" She smiled evily.

"Or I'll do something about it." She wiggled her eyebrows.

"Is that an innuendo, Ghostie?" I pushed her away from me and got off the bed, and for a fraction of a second she looked hurt but quickly recovered.

"Must you take everything I say and twist it?" She grinned and sat on the edge of the bed running her fingers through her hair.

"Only because you make it so easy." I encroach over to her, and put my arms on either side of her slim figure, and put my face inches from hers.

Her eyes were red and puffy, making her already blue eyes, bluer. Her complexion was a light olive colour, but soft looking and breakable if too much pressure was applied. Her button nose and perfect lips were in proportion with her face. A perfect, flawless face. Just like her personality, soul, and mind.

"Is _that_ an innuendo, Rhayella?" Her cheeks turned a colour redder than tomatoes, and I put my face closer to hers still. If I looked down and she looked up, our lips would meet. "A woman your age shouldn't be making such suggestions, you never know what could happen." I said darkly and she squirmed and pulled her face away. This caused her to plant her arms on the bed, and get lower than she was originally. Her hair hung over her shoulders and back like a black curtain. "Are you so repulsed of me that you pull away?" Her blues narrow and she takes offense.

"I am not repulsed by you." I lean over to her studying her features, and gaze over her lips for a fraction of a second longer than I should have. She saw it and smirked.

"Oh really?" I lean over closer than before and whisper next to her ear. "Then you shouldn't look so scared by me." She shivered, my breath evidently on her ear. I pulled away to look at her and she looked so...

There were no words, there was only my lips crashing down on hers. She jumped at first, caught off guard by it but then relaxed into it and kissed me back.


	11. Chapter 11

My dear followers and avid readers,

I regret to inform you that I will no longer be active on this site. I have had a story three years in the making, and I'm finally close to being finished with it, and I'm in the process of getting a cover for it.

I cannot reveal anything about the book, not even the title, it's in my contract.

I'm super excited for it. There will probably be thirteen books in the series, each an individual novel, but connecting everything and everyone in the last book. Like I said I'm excited about it.

Anyways, let me tell you about our up and coming fan fiction.

Doctor Who: A series of stories out of place and out of time, all revolving around the same person. Will take a minimum of a year.

Batman/Harley Quinn: finishing the story and maybe a short story of the family... Still up in the air.

Phantom of the Opera: Finishing the two stories and a spin off or short sequel to A Twist In Time

And last but not least, I am proud to present a new and upcoming fan fiction, given to me by a devoted reader...

The Beast and Silver Beauty!

I can't wait to publish the first chapter, it's the best I've written in a while, and I'm absolutely in love with it. It'll be up in November, sorry I couldn't keep the promise about Halloween!

I write on Wattpad, Fan fiction, and Archive of our own. Check me out there.

I hope y'all will wait for the year or two before the book comes out and read it. It was extremely fun to write and I've mentioned a few of you in the acknowledgments, so there's that.

Few things to know about me so you can find me when it comes out.

Military brat, enlisted in the army, loves writing more than food, loves food more than the average person, I write under a pseudonym, and I love mythology!

Unfortunatly this letter is closing, so I must go.

May the King of Jazz guide you in life, and provide fun times and riches to come.

With all the love in my heart,

R. T.


	12. Chapter 12

Guys, I'm back. Screw editors and contacts.

They wanted me to change my whole entire book and I said no.

So, my sincerest apologizes.

AND because you have been so patient...

I'm writing sneak peaks into all of my stories until I can give each one a chapter.

Until then,

Chow!

R.T.


	13. Chapter 13

I wake up to Erik playing his organ once again, and this time, the music sounds like a really twisted version of Past the Point of No Return.

I slowly bring myself to the full consciousness, and try to remember last night, but all I get is half said conversations and blurry faces. I would need to ask Erik about last night,

I climb out of the swan bed and the cool cave air touches my body and I begin to shiver, I quickly pull one of the sheets from the bed and wrap it around my small frame as I make my way out to Erik and his playing.

"What are you working on?" My throat is parched and I have to force air out, but I ask him nonetheless, and I decide to lean against his back. His once straight and perfect posture, now seems to soften under my weight and pressure against him.

"A song for Don Juan." He mumbles out, and I know that he;s not really paying attention to me, he's too engrossed in his music.

"How's it coming?"

"Slow." He stops playing and turns around, shoving me from not only a comfortable spot but also a warm heater too. "Actually, I could use your help." I look to him, then to the sheet music he was working on. It was. It was Past the Point of no Return. I reach over and grab the music from the piano.

"I know this piece." I shuffle through the sheets. "It's Past The Point Of No Return." I beam, a grin reaching my eyes, and he only glares. "Oh come on, It's my favorite song." He continues to glare. "First, you're in the wrong key. Scoot over." I sit down next to him at the piano bench and begin playing. "Now, just sing." I lead up to his entrance and he only stares at me in curiosity, and then, he sings.

"You have come here, in pursuit of your deepest urge, in pursuit of that wish which till now has been silent." He continued singing and then suddenly stood up. "That our passions may fuse and merge." He sings out. I protest as he tries, and successfully pulls me up with him.

"Erik..." I breathe out, and all he does is smile seductively. "In your mind you've already succumbed to me." He takes one hand and cups my cheek with it, and runs a thumb over my lips. "Dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me." He removes his hand from my cheek and grabs one of my hands, pulling me onto one of the lower levels of the cave. "Now you are here with me, no second thoughts. You've decided, decided." He pulls me onto the sandy beach part and grabs my waist, pulling me closer to him. "Past the point of no return, no backward glances, the games we've played till now are at an end. Past all thought of if or when, no use resisting, abandon thought and let the dream descend." I had pulled away from him and we had begun circling each other , and I knew that it was close to being my turn to sing."What raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desire unlocks its door? What sweet seduction lies before us. Past the point of no return the final threshold? What warm, unspoken secrets will we learn, beyond the point of no return? " His last note rang through the cave, and I did nit take part. I did not sing, and whatever seductive super power he held over me had vanished.

"Nice try, ghostie, but you can't keep me under your spell forever." I smirked at him, and in swift motion he had closed the distance between us once again.

"I can' put you under it, if you're already there." His hand once again cupped my cheek.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I say breathless, as I can clearly see him inching his way closer to me, and his starring at my lips and then into my eyes,

"You're so-"

"Obsessed?"

"In love." I stare at him, and I'm flustered.

"What?"


End file.
